World Without Fault
by Devlyne
Summary: All I did was drift in to their lives, but I found it hard to drift back out again. OC POV. Eric/Sookie.


A/N: I love True Blood. I really like Southern Vampire Mysteries. I thought Godric was … beautiful. I think Eric is fascinating. I hate Bill. I mean really, really hate Bill. There's something about the man that just creeps me out. I can't quite put my finger on it, but definitely in True Blood. He's just creepy. And when I go back to re-watch older episodes, he creeps me out even more. Not saying Stephen Moyer isn't a handsome man, or Bill for that matter, but he's … creepy.

Despite what you might think, I find Eric rather straightforward. He's a playboy, who is out for himself and is going to manipulate people into getting what he wants; screw everyone else. Not his greatest quality, but, at least he's rather honest about it. Do I think he's capable of so much more? Yes. And I believe we will see this. Why did I tell you all of this? Because, I want you to know where I stand for the purposes of fiction. The OC in this is meant to be a narrator, a watcher, inside but outside of the events. I admit to having twisted things to my liking. For instance; Godric is not dead. I'm sorry, I couldn't part with him. And when I tried, I had separation anxiety.

I do hope you will enjoy.

**The Beginning**

I do not have the advantage of years, as so many of my counterparts do. My mortality stands in the way of ever matching the number of years they have accumulated between them. It does give me one advantage, however; I am a far better storyteller than any of them. I reason that this might be because they have seen too much of life, mortality in general, to ever be truly effective at describing it. It is a commonality that they have become adjusted to; insensitive to, if you prefer. Even as I sit here typing this out, I know that at least one of them is darting furtive glances my way now and again, listening to the movement of my fingers across the keys and attempting to hide a smile. He would say that it was very human of me to want to chronicle what I have witnessed, but his concern is waved aside. Of course it is very human of me, after all, I am a human.

The one who gives me furtive glances is known as Eric. He thinks he is quite covert, that I do not feel his eyes pass over me now and again, puzzling out what moronic human thing I am doing now, but I do. _Are you done with my laptop yet? _I do not even dignify that with a response, not even a raise of my ever expressive eyebrows. Admittedly, I'm quite proud of myself for not reacting. However I feel I must warn you that if you continue on, you will have to deal with his terse nature. Think of him, if you will, like a modern day Loki. He doesn't know it, but that's how I think of him; full of mischief and cruelty. Oh he has a good side, but, we have not yet come to the point of that matter. No. I am here to tell you a story of the past, so, we must return to the past to tell it.

I had never been to Bon Temps, Louisiana. From what I understand, it wasn't the type of place that a person went to, but more a place people were trying to escape from. I suppose in a way it's the small mind mentality, the draw of the big city, and the want of something more. I remember what I disliked about it so much first off; it was hot. Granted, I'm from the South, places where it's always hot and humid, but something about Louisiana proved to me that hot could be ten times worse than what I was used to. Then there was the smell on top of it; the lingering scent of tepid water and moss. It smelled like a great, big steaming swamp. Before you get too riled up, I'm told that my own state smells a little odd itself. Perhaps all the iron saturated red clay. I digress.

Bon Temps, Louisiana.

I drift you see, in and out of places, wandering my way through life. At least, I used to. I didn't particularly need a job at the time, but I'd heard of an opening at some bar in Shreveport; Fangtasia. I figured someone had one messed up sense of humor to name it that. Only a vampire, right? Maybe not, some of the humans I've met over the years would give vampires one hell of a run for their money. The line into the bar wrapped a bit; beautiful women, not so beautiful women, men who were dog ugly. I was amused by the array of costumes and music I heard playing from that line, listening a few moments more before hefting my backpack back onto one shoulder. Yeah, not really my type of thing. I didn't dance very well at all, and if it was a vampire bar, well, I wasn't up for being a fangbanger. Bartender I could have handled, waitress even if it came to that, but, not a dancer. Actually, I felt a bit sorry for the poor fools who were doing the auditions inside. At least they wouldn't have to put up with the embarrassment I would offer.

Time to move on then. Of course, moving on was easier said than done. When you drift, really, you don't have a lot of money to take taxis or sleep in motels. Sleep comes where you can find it, rides come in the form of kind strangers who you hope aren't serial killers, and meals are few and far between. Doesn't really sound like the type of life someone would choose, right? Depends on what you were running away from, or looking for. Regardless, I remember the first time I laid my eyes on Sookie Stackhouse. I was headed out of Shreveport, walking along the road, when the bright yellow Honda passed by me headed in to town. No big deal; it was going the wrong way for me to flag it down anyway. Besides, another car would happen along eventually and I could catch a ride from it instead. Except, apparently, I had chosen the wrong road out of town.

It was desolate, deserted. I did not mind the darkness, though even I admit that I could hear things in it, moving about and that sent a faint chill up and down my spine. Well I certainly wasn't about to stay out here overnight and that left moving forward or turning back. A glance back convinced me that I had come too far for that, so onward it was. The darkness became more oppressive as I went; tangled vines and trees hanging over the road like skeletal nightmares hanging into my vision. I admit it, I felt fright. It was not the first time and it would certainly not be the last. And I could not simply stop walking because I was afraid. That was when the headlights hit me, throwing my shadow out before me and I glanced back, shielding my eyes against the light.

Yellow Honda. I caught a vague glimpse of a woman in the driver's seat as it passed; a flash of blond hair. There was little point in flagging the car down, then. Most women would not stop for hitchhikers, even other women. So instead I bowed my head and kept on going. Obviously there would be something at the end of this road, eventually. I was surprised of course, when the car pulled off up ahead and parked. The lights stayed on, but the woman got out. Not the most sensible thing I've ever seen someone do. "Hey..." She called out in that sweet Southern voice, offering what I can only describe as a nervous smile. I had been right, blond hair.

"Evenin'. How far up is the next town?" I called back to her, digging my hands into the pockets of my jeans, stopping a few feet from the car, leaving a good distance between us. No need to make her uncomfortable, right? My eyes shifted to the darkness ahead and then back once more to the really old Honda Civic sitting before me. I think the damned thing was almost as old as I am, and that's saying something. Her eyes were on me, that nervous smile hovering about her lips a few moments, before she nodded the way she was going.

"It's 'bout...fifteen miles or so up the road. Bon Temps...you need a ride?"

I couldn't decide if she was incredibly brave or just a little bit foolish. Still, my feet were grateful for the offer of a ride and I sure as hell wasn't going to turn it down. "Uhm, yeah, if y'don't mind. That'd be great. Is there a motel in town I can get a room at or something?" Her smile only seemed to widen and her head nodded a little too quickly. How odd. A lift and fall of my shoulders, moving quietly around the car as she slid back in, leaning across to unlock the passenger door. I slid in myself, pulling the door closed and grasping at the seat belt. "So, do you do this often, picking up strangers?"

"Never." Her voice a chirp of nervous happiness. I couldn't blame her really. I think I would have been nervous too. Worse still, I'm not certain even I would have stopped to pick myself up. "There's a small motel in town, it's pretty clean and not to expensive...I'll drop y'off there, okay?"

"Thanks." A hand extended to her, cordially. "Alexis"

Her smile brightened until it was almost blinding as she took my hand, shook it, squeezed it, and then released. "Hi, I'm Sookie. It's nice to meetcha." Sookie. Really? I wanted to laugh and for a moment, I admit, I had to turn it over in my head how such a foreign sounding name had managed to make it here to Louisiana. At first, I thought it might be more like Suki, you know, the Asian form?

"How do you spell that?" My backpack was pulled around to my front, digging in it until I found my weathered leather bound journal, pulling out a pen as well. I definitely wanted to write that down. She giggled a little bit and spelled it out. S-O-O-K-I-E. Definitely not Asian then, but such an odd name even for the South, and believe me, we run to odd names. Alexis wasn't exactly my given name, just one I had chosen out of a book somewhere, but believe me when I tell you, my given name was unusual. "Sorry...I like writing down odd bits I run across. Is..is it short for anything?" Perhaps I was being too personal now, but, there it was.

"Nope. Just Sookie. It's funny, because you're like the third person to ask me that...well, from outside of town." She was giggling once more, a soft sound, somewhat soothing even to me. I don't normally run to female companionship, something about them makes me terribly uncomfortable. I always feel like I'm being judged. Not with Sookie though, no, she was open and easy to speak to. No depth. At least, none that I had detected yet. And how could I? "The other was my boyfriend Bill..." The way she said it made me think she'd said 'Bell' at first, but I slowly put the word together in my head and realized that his name was likely William, not...well...Bell.

To be honest, I wasn't quite certain how to respond to that statement without sounding insulting or perhaps a bit insensitive. A glance out the window showed me the dim shapes of trees speeding past, eyes drifting closed a few moments. That's the problem with sitting down somewhere, you suddenly become tired and falling asleep less difficult. I wondered if she'd tried to speak to me while I was out and rather hoped not. After all, I was a stranger in her car. Still, when she touched my shoulder, we were parked before a rather cheerful looking little country motel. "Here we are..." Said cheerfully, as though she'd dropped me off in front of the Taj Mahal and not the ...I squinted to see what the motel was called.

"Thanks, it looks great." My bag was gathered to my chest then, the door opened so that I could lever myself out onto shaky legs. "Thanks again for the ride, Sookie...it was real nice meeting you..." A glance back at the blond woman, wondering if I would see her again before I closed the door and she pulls away. It only takes a quick check of my pockets to reassure me that I really don't have enough for a motel room, much less a cup of coffee. Still, it had been a really nice thought, getting to sleep in a bed for the night. As it was, a park bench would suit my needs for an hour or so, before I was fairly certain the local police would make me move on. I had never appreciated how little most cities and towns like loiterers until taking this trip, but I do now, believe me.

The park, as it turns out, was a very small town square situated in the center of a strip shopping center of sorts that most likely used to be the main street of the town. It had been landscaped with the type of flowers one would expect to see; pansies, lilies, flowers of that nature. And of course, the obligatory low box hedges. My journal was pulled out and I sat scratching out notes about the journey of the day. I wished I could draw so that plotting out that picture of Fangtasia with its line wrapping about the outside of the building could stick there forever, but, as it was, I would have to make due with my memory.

" 'Ey, you one of them vampers..." Really. And people thought we Georgians were Southern. My eyes flickered upward to the new comer, gazing at the man a few moments, before looking down to the page once more. "No, sir, just passing through. Thought I'd rest my feet a few moments..." The man assaulting me now was a bald headed, stout man with a button down shirt and khaki slacks. My book was folded closed, as I was fairly certain this was going to be my cue to leave. A glance at my watch told me that between opening the journal and closing it nearly an hour had passed.

"Well I'm Detective Bellefleur..n'this here is my town...we don't like no loiterers in the park after dark..."

I could respect that, actually. These days it was hard to tell who was friendly and who wasn't. My journal was pushed back into my backpack and I lifted the pack as I stood, dusting myself off. "Terribly sorry, mister...I'm just passing through, didn't mean no harm..." I tripped at that moment, as I started to move away from him, dumping my still half open backpack onto the sidewalk. A change or two of clothes, a few trinkets of jewelry, what little bit of change I had, my favorite book and my journal...the whole sum of my life spilled out before him. I made no excuses for it, just, grabbed it up, stuffing it back into place.

Truthfully, I should have known something was wrong by the look on his face. He had picked up one of my most prized possessions, in the form of a small blue ring box. It had a ring in it, of course, white gold inlaid with sapphires, about twenty of them. The band itself rather flat, no more than two or three millimeters wide. "What's this?" He had opened it, was gazing at the ring, then down at me. I suppose it was kind of an odd thing for me to be carrying, but it was something from my former life. Something I needed to have by me to remember.

"Just a ring..." This murmured softly, standing before him, dusting myself off. "Can I have it back, please?" I tried to be quiet, to be controlled, but, something about seeing that ring in his hands. He was looking at it once more, touching it, then snapped the box closed as his eyes lifted to mine once more.

"Don't know about a drifter havin' that kind of thing...think maybe I needta hang onto it..." See if I stole it, he meant. It was foolish, maybe, but I sure as hell wasn't leaving without my ring. "Sure. We can go down, call a few places, you can check the state...whatever you need to do, but I want it back, please..." I was strained with trying to sound polite when what I really wanted to do was snatch it back from him. Assaulting a police officer would not look good on my record, especially as I was a drifter and didn't want them prying too much into my past. After all, I had no idea who might be looking out for me.

"Think I'll holdja on loitering..."

My heart began to sink in my chest. Was this man serious? Apparently so, as moments later I found myself not only handcuffed, but my backpack confiscated and me walking towards a beat up looking patrol car. Well, it wasn't a bed, but at least I would have a place to sleep for the night, right? Try to think positive, that's what I'd been taught. Too bad that not much of that thinking had stuck in my new way of life. A good hour and a half later found me booked and sitting in a jail cell down a long hallway. My head lowered into my hands. This was not going well at all, not at all.

"Hookah, what you in for..."

A peek through my fingers revealed that I was staring at a stark gray wall. Perhaps I'd imagined the voice, my senses clearly overtaxed by this rather eventful evening. "Excuse me?" I murmured out, half afraid that I really was hearing things, not having remembered seeing anyone in the other two jail cells. "I said, what you in for?" It was coming from my right. An arm came into view, complete with a hand which had painted nails. No, the voice had definitely been masculine. I took the hand, shaking it lightly, then releasing before I stepped back.

"Lafayette..." Said the voice, which I could hear moving back into the cell now. "Alexis. Uhm...loitering...or suspected theft...you know I'm not really sure to be honest. The cop was...kinda an asshole..." He was laughing then, a deep, snide chuckle as I heard the springs of the mattress in the room creak. "Hookah ran afoul o'Andy Bellefleur...what thinks he's Magnum P.I."

"What're you in for?"

A question for a question, for an answer. He had asked and now I felt like the favor could be returned. "Oh, you know..." I could almost imagine him, flipping his hand a bit, then leaning back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He was black, I knew that much by the hand I'd shaken, and the nail polish...well, I was reminded of something else I knew. "Bein' black...mouthin' off...sellin' pills to th'wrong guy..."

"So you're like what, a drug dealer?" That caused him to start laughing, a chuckle which echoed through the cell and into the hallway. Actually, I rather liked his laugh, to be honest, there was something about it that was..warming. It spoke of good times, a party to be had. My eyes had drifted closed listening to his voice, allowing myself to be anchored back to reality after the last few hours being so damned unreal. Of course, the problem with being anchored is that one never stays that way very long. It was a smooth voice which sent my world tilting slightly once more.

"Oh, come now Lafayette...I thought you said you were an entrepreneur..."


End file.
